You'll Poke My Eye Out
by zenniel
Summary: Oneshot. Andryl. Beware of mild cussing. "Would you rather me cut your hair or Carol?" Andrea asks finally.


**So, because I fail at focusing on one task, here's another Andryl fiction instead of working on my main one. This one started after reading the livejournal (daryl-andrea) and looking at the prompts. Anyway, it was an idea that kept growing no matter what happened. Enjoy~**

She's fucking crazy.

Here he is, minding his own business, finally rejoining the group after Sophia's re-death, just fixing the few bolts he has left and deciding that it is time to make more bolts, when she stalks up, a pair of scissors in her hand.

"Woah, what th' _hell_!" He exclaims gruffly, his hand automatically shooting up. He realizes belatedly that it isn't a knife in his hand but the half-finished arrow.

"What're you going to do, splinter me to death?" She asks calmly, hands on her hips, scissors splaying out at a weird angle.

"Th' hell you gonna do with _those_?" He asks, pointing at the scissors with the unfinished bolt.

She laughs at him but her eyes and body are serious. She hasn't moved except to change the position of her feet unconsciously. He just glares back at her and there's a boiling silence for a moment before she rolls her eyes.

"Seriously?" She asks incredulously. "Oh, I don't know. I was just going to come and poke your eyes out. Two blades on scissors are better than one knife."

He scoffs at her sarcasm but doesn't answer her. Finally, she groans. "You need a haircut."

At first, he doesn't register what she's said. She just keeps looking at him as if he knows what she's said. Then, finally, it clicks. "You want to… fuck, Andrea."

"No," Andrea counters, "I don't want to fuck. I want to cut your hair. It's a mess and it looks like it's sweltering under there. Besides, you don't do anything with it, why not cut it?"

"I ain't no girl." Daryl mutters, "Ain't got no need to do my hair."

"Exactly." Andrea concludes. As if what she thinks is the best option in the world. As if she knows everything. He scrunches up his nose. Her argument is sound for once. He doesn't need this much hair. In fact, it's been bothering him for weeks now, growing so low that it's just gotten annoying.

But he's not backing down.

"Can cut my own hair." He growls out and settles back down to mess with the bolt again. He tries to ignore her as best he can. But it's so hard. She's just so dominant in her stature that it's just hard to ignore her. Besides, she's glaring at him. He can feel her frosty eyes piercing him. He grows hot, even hotter than he already is in the sweltering sun.

"Like hell you can." Andrea laughs out finally, shaking her head. He had glanced back up at her for a second but he'd quickly looked back at the bolt. Because of her gaze. "If you could have cut your hair, you'd have done it. Don't lie to me, Daryl. I've seen you fuss with it. You can't cut your hair for your life."

"Says the woman who only puts her hair in ponies." Daryl interjects, his hands fiddling haphazardly with the bolt. In his fidgeting, he snags a splinter. "Son-a-bitch." He growls and pulls the tiny wooden splinter out of his finger with his teeth.

Andrea is shaking her head slightly like she can't believe him. Well, what does she think? He's not going to let her anywhere close to his head with those scissors, much less after she'd told him she wanted to poke his eyes out. Even if that was in jest.

"Would you rather me cut your hair or Carol?" She asks finally.

Damn woman is relentless! He mulls it over for a moment. Carol would fuss too much. Andrea would probably just cut it and get it over with. Then leave him alone. That's what he wanted anyway. Carol would be all feely and emotion-full, of course. He'd only just started getting back in with the group since Sophia's death. After her death he'd tried to keep his distance from Carol. He'd gotten her hopes up and then they all fell crashing to the ground. He didn't want to talk to her yet, much less have her cut his hair. Worse than having her weeping into his head, she might even slit his throat. Something Andrea might not do.

"What 'bout Maggie?" He throws a name out there. He would have chosen Beth but she doesn't do much but stare anymore.

"_Now_ you're reaching," Andrea rolls her eyes again and chooses this moment to sit next to him. He freezes in the middle of messing with his bolt again but thinks that it'll be childish to scoot away from her. Still, he eyes those scissors from the corner of his eyes. Any move toward his face and he'll stab her. With his arrow shaft.

"Just like t' have my options open." He shrugs.

"You know that I'm your best bet." Andrea's voice is as strong as ever. Even how she's sitting exudes and air of strength. Just like when she was standing.

"You cut hair before?" He asks finally, realizing the bolt he's been working in isn't going to get finished any time soon. He might as well give her what she wants.

She seems startled. "Uh, yeah. I'm okay at it. Mostly just did my hair and Amy's. But your hair should be easy."

He's surprised that she mentioned Amy. But perhaps she's gotten over her sister's death. He sits there for a moment before glaring at her. "You gonna feel happy if you cut my hair? Feel like you won?"

"Like I…?" Andrea looks at him, incredulous. Then she outright laughs. "I'm not going to _win_ anything. You're getting the better end of the deal. You're the one getting a haircut."

"As long as ya don't cut my eyes out." Daryl mutters.

It takes her a moment but then she smiles. "I promise not to. Now can I cut it?"

He acquiesces and after only about ten minutes she declares his haircut her finest achievement. He seriously doubts that, but he lets her bask in her own pride for a moment. He wishes he had a mirror. Knowing Andrea, his hair probably looks worse than before. Then again, he doesn't think her craftsmanship is really all that bad from what he can feel. And he truly does try not to run his hand through his hair checking for any irregularities.

"That wasn't so bad now, was it?" She asks. Her tone is light but there's a bit of sarcasm.

"Whatever," he grumbles back; "At least ya didn't poke my eyes out."

"I can still do that." She thinks aloud as she brushes a stray bunch of hairs from his shoulder. The touch is minimal, but he can feel it through even his vest. Her sarcasm isn't lost on him, though.

"Should put th' scissors away now." He grumbles and holds his hands out for them.

Amazingly, she gives them to him and he catches her hand in his own, ignoring the pinch of scissors between their two hands. He doesn't mean to and he quickly lets go, but the damage is done. He's never felt his hand sting like this before. Or his shoulder where she brushed off the hair. He decides to ignore it. Without much success.

She sits next to him again and gestures broadly at the bolts he was trying to make. "How's it coming along?"

"Good. Until you came. Told me I needed a haircut." He grunts and the feeling is gone. No, that's not true. It's still lingering, this strange feeling. And here he thought he'd only feel hatred and a sort of strange sadness for the rest of his life.

"Daryl." Andrea sounds like a mother. "You and your anger issues."

Only Andrea can talk to him like that, he realizes. He just shrugs her away, still unsure if he liked or disliked the touch. It was certainly different. "Yeah, what 'bout 'em?"

She just ends up chuckling. Then she stands and gestures. "Well." A pause. "You look, uh, good."

She turns and walks away. He stares after her for a while then runs his hand through his hair. It feels okay. Then he opens his other hand and looks at the scissors, staring in disbelief for a moment. Had he really let Andrea cut his hair? Had anyone noticed? A quick check and the coast is clear; no one had seen to his knowledge. Then he smiles and goes back to making his bolts.

Maybe Andrea isn't so bad after all.


End file.
